


a song for the deranged

by noseforsatu (berryargento)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryargento/pseuds/noseforsatu
Summary: Just like a song, or a poem, or a script; everything with a start deserve a finish.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	a song for the deranged

**Author's Note:**

> Been wanting for this but I haven't find the time and energy to do so. And yeah, you see that right: Azure Moon route spoilers.

To be frank, there is, actually, never a downtime in the Opera House.

Be it at the morning, the midday, or to the night performance, people will pour out of nowhere. As if there’s no actual border, no actual limit of _where_ people may come from. Sometimes it is all the familiar faces - someone who dressed to the T for repeat shows, someone who dressed as a slob yet will be in the front row to clap the loudest, someone who reeks of booze and smells like cheap woman’s perfume, or a young housewife bringing her oldest kid to the opera for the first time.

There have been lots of faces to remember, lots of façade to relinquish, lots of memories of a mere shape of complexion that is hard to disregard. Yet, it is all the same: the Opera House is never empty, before and after the curtain is called.

This blinding light, Dorothea has missed it dearly so upon her departure to the Officers Academy. But at the same time, she wanted to erase every bad mementos, leaving the good one for herself and maybe stayed to the life of safety and assurance by the Garreg Mach Monastery instead working hard to the bone for money.

Then again, within the nights of sleepless, merciless dreams, the stage is already the part of her blood. She wanted to bask on the fame, wanted to shower on thunderous of applause, wanted to hear those voices, young and old, male and female; chanted her name like she is the most precious gemstone in the world.

With a long blink of her sight, the surrounding before her reverted back to the hall of emptiness that echoed only the clicks of her heels. The Opera House is already closed for the day. The night has been prowling in silence, save from some of drunkards that was in the process to be kicked out by the back doors of the Opera House. She was the last one to remain within the main area, feigning on checking the locks by the door or wanting to take another trip to see whether the sheltered little children are sleeping well beneath the cover of once-known as the sturdiest table belonged to the Mittelfrank Opera Company’s store room.

The only performance of the day—perhaps the last performance ever there for the means of charity to the homeless and parent less war refugees—has already been done. Not for long, the mightiest of enemies bearing the flag of blue and the banner of Gods will knock on the Capital’s door. Fort Merceus, which was the hope that people of Enbarr cling onto, has long fallen, together with the news that the second son of Count Bergliez beheaded together with a brilliant mage of House Hevring.

The news was devastating, even the messenger who told the updates was having a second opinion before taking it on the plate. It wasn’t long since the loss at Gronder Field – Dorothea still remembered how her heart ached and her eyes burned at the thought of the meek archer of House Varley had her story ended there. There is not much time until the city is torched to make the path to the main castle. Even though she has resolved to fight until the bitter end protecting what she believed in, Dorothea would swallow upon the mention of death.

Death. The end. Just like any song, just like any story, something that triggered from the start must meet with the finish. It would also mean the end of suffering, but perhaps not the end of grief or guilt.

Dorothea closed her eyes once more, letting herself walk through the empty halls of the Mittelfrank Opera Company without guide. Soon, she would go back again to the main hall, where the last claps rang louder, fuller than Dorothea ever heard in her lifetime. Sleep likely evade her, but not her fond memories that she wished to indulge before the battle.

As she entered the main hall once again, however, the drunkards already gone – but one audience remained, seated at the center clusters that usually served for cheaper tickets. Her white hair reflected the remnant of lamps that has yet to be put off. Her red dress is void of its flowing cape, leaving a dark mantle to conceal the wings of Two-Headed Eagle from giving out her identity. She must have left her horned crown somewhere at the palace, or people will recognize her right away.

Though, Dorothea should confess it has been so long since she had seen the full flow of those silver locks since the day of Black Eagles’ class. Never once she lost that glory on her posture – or the unexplained beauty that moored every being of her expression.

“Edie.”

Dorothea knew that Edelgard waited her to speak instead being the first to approach. Upon the mention of her name, the Emperor raised herself, turning to greet the Songstress with what Dorothea could conjure as a tired smile.

Just like her, she—no, she couldn’t compare herself to any burden that’s ghosting on the shoulders of Edelgard von Hresvelg. Then again, the Emperor won’t prefer her to throw any condolences.

The Emperor has been a fan of the Mittelfrank since who knows when, something that Dorothea finds to be amusing, especially when Edelgard would come to the theater herself, not simply regal on the passing stories. Ever since the announcement of war, Dorothea had offered for special seat in case Edelgard wanted to come and visit the Opera Company or to greet the refugee children of war. Edelgard, of course, unable to come as she is too busy with repelling the armies and fortified her defense.

Having her to come there on the last day of the Opera Company has been quite unexpected, but Dorothea could already guess the thing that’s about to unfold.

“Your singing is excellent as always.” Edelgard started with praise, leveling her chin up. They were standing before the stage area, the curtain was open on their backs. “It was a worth to listen to your ballad.”

“Of course; no one is coming here and then coming out unsatisfied,” Dorothea played along. A tease is there in her voice, clear for Edelgard to hear. “You should say that you’ll be coming, I can whip up my work in progress of the story about you.”

“About me?” the violet eyes glimmered. A feint of ignorance is there – she made it visible.

“About _you_. I know you still remembered about _‘Hail mighty Edelgard’_?”

“For that, I … would like for you to save it for another time, then.” She finally deflected out in open, earning a giggle. “ _Dorothea_.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just kidding.”

This is the last day of the Opera, everyone who’s reading the poster outside the entranceway should’ve known it already. There is so much topics that they could gather to dance around the issue, while both know all too well that there is not much time left to enjoy a silent night.

The Diva climbed on the side of the stage, urging Edelgard to sit beside her with an eager pat on the wooden surface. It felt like an old times, when they would take a little break over a side of the Monastery’s vacant bench, basking on the sun. There might only be a minimal lighting over the dimmed auditorium, not to mention that Dorothea should be looking pensive already, judging by how Edelgard is quieter within the ticking seconds.

“So, do you have anything to say to me, Edie?”

With that, Edelgard flinched. Her lips curved up for a slight, maintaining her calm splendor perfectly still.

“…A parting word.”

“Why?” Dorothea didn’t miss a beat. “Shouldn’t I be the one to, considering the Kingdom will torch the city?”

 _The Kingdom._ The Faerghus people led by once fallen prince and their old, but still dear professor. The end of this five year war is nigh with the apparent victor, though Edelgard never show that she has lost all the cards in the game.

It is when something clicked: a big puzzle that might not be close to what Edelgard is about to share with her, but maybe sounded closer to the truth.

“Hubie ever said that you got a trump card or whatever,” the brunette is talking to herself. “Knowing him, though, you shouldn’t use this trump card.”

“But I will.”

No, Dorothea is not here to ask of Edelgard’s own decision. She also doesn’t want to question the woman’s own vendetta. The plan should already be in motion; Dorothea would be guarding the spot she wanted to be just like she requested from the first time and then Edelgard will—

Dorothea stopped her train of thoughts when Edelgard tilted her head up to meet her wandering eyes. They were seating side by side, just like an old times, but the barrier between statuses is no more for Dorothea to keep her hand to herself. Her hand is searching for Edelgard’s. She is now thinner than when Dorothea remembered her to be, though there is a pulsating magic ran through her blood that the mage couldn’t put her finger on what kind of power that Edelgard kept dormant in her.

Or to be exact, what _big_ of power that Edelgard will _unleash_ as the last resort if the Capital is falling.

Then, as if knowing what Dorothea is thinking right now, Edelgard let out a chuckle. Low, amused, and at the same time, becoming a confirmation to multitude of questions within her mind.

“Say, Dorothea,”

Edelgard ran a slow, affectionate brush over her thumb.

“Will you sing another ballad for me—for us—before both of our hands ran cold?”

“Of course, Edie.”


End file.
